


White Acropolis

by Eph (astralescent)



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralescent/pseuds/Eph
Summary: After spending the previous fall dealing with the ups and downs of... getting closer to a few acquaintances (Chaos forbid he calls them friends), Shadow takes on a contract with G.U.N. for the winter to spend it working in White Acropolis - and far away from the few people he's grown fond of.A short, solo character arc for a lonely hybrid who isolates himself out of fear of hurting those he cares about. Sonadow implied.
Relationships: Shadow the Hedgehog/Sonic the Hedgehog
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I run a Shadow roleplay blog and this is an arc I wrote for him after spending a few months developing his relationships with other characters through roleplay. As such, this follows several events and individual interactions that may be referenced but not explained. I will do my best to add notes about them at the end of each chapter, but don't hesitate to ask if you need anything cleared up. This is something I thoroughly enjoyed to write and had complimented by a number of people in the roleplay community, so I hope some people on Ao3 find it to their liking as well.

It was a long and painstakingly slow drive to his destination. Many of the northern country had been swept over by storms in recent days, typical indication of late fall and early winter, and the roads were left slippery whether from frost or rain. His ride being suited for just about anything but that, he was given a lot of time to meditate on his way to Soleanna. 

So he played the game of clearing one’s mind, wanting to turn the page as soon as possible. The next few weeks would likely keep him busy and he would do well to not be… distracted. The last few days, and even weeks, and months, had been draining, in hindsight. Filled with more social activity than he’d signed himself up for in the few years he’d been around, possibly. The aftermath of his last goodbyes had left him with a sudden feeling of emptiness; as bittersweet as it was to have to say goodbye, it felt all too urgent to move on to whatever would come next before dwelling on it.

For a good number of hours he was listening to music, though - music they’d been playing in the RV just a week prior¹. One after the other, everyone’s playlist came on. It wasn’t the same without them, of course, but if he let himself zone out enough, he could picture Knuckles drumming up the beat of his usual rap songs, Silver excitedly skipping through his list in search of something he thought everyone would like, Zero sitting on the side and trying not to let it show that he was waiting for someone’s approval. Everyone singing together on the way back. How it had really started to feel like the beginning of the end, right then.

When he ran out of songs to help him reminisce, he reached out to grab his communicator, pinned it to the vents for easy access, and initiated a transmission. It took some maneuvering between different agents before he could talk to someone in charge at the White Acropolis base, but he was eventually able to announce his upcoming arrival and confirm he would be available for work this time the next day. 

The coast appeared not long after, and from there it was a rather straightforward drive through the sea wind, onto a ferry and finally at the designated island. It took some more time to navigate his way to his new residence - this country really promoted walking and rowing over driving - but his car was effectively parked some time after nightfall.

The neighborhood was quiet, not to say desolate. Anyone who lived here was bound to be sad or lonely, in some way - it was about as close to the cold region as residences could get, and therefore as cheap and modest as they came. It didn’t bother him. He wasn’t here for the touristic attractions, let alone to make friends. 

Stepping out of the car was an efficient reminder as to why exactly he was here; the numbing bite of the cold seized each of his limbs instantly. No one wanted to work in these temperatures. He pulled his jacket closed, and hid what little he could of his face in it. This would take some getting used to. 

Not wanting to waste any time getting inside, he located what few items he could stuff in his pockets - phone, communicator, apartments keys - and picked up a couple of the boxes resting on the backseat. He was only in for a (hopefully) good night of sleep, he could unpack the rest tomorrow.

However, he was naive to think his journey had reached its end; getting up the multiple staircases to reach the fourth floor with his arms full was an adventure of its own. Not a single step failed to creak under his weight, and the rest of the building was so silent he expected an angry old man to burst out of one of the other apartments and complain about the noise at any second. There was a strong smell of dust, perhaps unsurprisingly; beside each and every door rested a pile of old or new logs of wood.

His place looked a lot more lonely now than it had when he’d first come here shopping for residences. It had no room for neighbors, instead sharing the floor with the attic. Something else he refused to be bothered by. Who knew how chatty some of the other residents might be ? Putting down his load, he unlocked the door and pushed the boxes inside, following behind them.

The first thing he noticed was the cold. Clearly, the place had been vacant for weeks, meaning no one had been here to keep a certain level of heat in a long time. The second thing that came to attention was the dark, as he tried to make his way to the fireplace in the corner of the room. No lamps or lights were turned on, and there was but one window letting in what little the moon had to offer tonight. His eyes adjusted quickly, thankfully, and he managed to get a fire going before he’d even bothered closing and locking the door to his little studio.

On the plus side, it being so small made it both quick to heat up and easy to see just about everything even from having just the one fire lit up, save for the kitchen amenities on the opposite side of the room. It was small and bare and very minimally furnished, but it was comfortable enough to spend the night in, and that was all he needed.

Bringing the boxes over near the fireplace, he finally took off his jacket before starting to open them. He knew what was in one of them; he’d picked it specifically for its content, knowing he’d likely need it to get some sleep. A thick, green blanket, as soft as it was bright, bought on a dare from his teammate, and a large, cozy pillow, courtesy of Zero from just a couple of weeks prior. He threw both items on the single mattress placed across the room from the fire place.

Right underneath was his laptop, the closest thing he’d get to having a television in this limited space, which he put down near the wall and plugged in with mechanical gestures. He then scraped the bottom of the box to pull out some jerky, a pack of peanuts, a small bag of fruits and a couple bottles of water. Those were set aside without much care. Surely, he could hold out until morning without eating.

Then came the second box - the one with the mystery content he’d only brought up thinking he might as well lighten tomorrow’s load. It was mostly filled with clothes, a hoodie and two more jackets, as well as some wires and chargers for his electronic devices - which would actually come in handy. Satisfied with his loot for the evening, he began pushing the box away, but pulled it back towards him when he felt some remaining weight within.

He recognized the item for its texture before it was even brought out into the fire’s light. An oddly-shaped rock, half pale and ordinary, half colorful and extravagant². He turned it over in his hand a few times, still as captivated by its unassuming side hiding countless shiny crystals as he’d been the first time it was showcased to him. And then he tried looking around for some other item he might have left to give attention to, not wanting to let nostalgia take over - to no avail. He sighed.

Sitting on his mattress, he placed the geode by his bedside, and turned his gaze up at the window. It was impressive, really, how suddenly being reminded of someone could alter one’s thoughts. One second he was casually settling in, and the other he was trying to process just how _far_ he felt, how isolated, from everything, from everyone.

Distance had never been something that intimidated him so. He could get rid of distance in the blink of eye, make it disappear quicker than most through some fast strides or with the use of a familiar technique. It had never seemed like such a deep, narrow gorge keeping him away from… from what ? Peace of mind ? Happiness ? He’d never really been good at that anyway. When had he started caring about having those within reach ?

He hadn’t, was the simple answer. They’d just presented themselves to him, in the form of a sleepy white hedgehog on his couch, in the innocent laughter of a friendly cat, in the slurred words of a loyal drinking partner, in the bright smile of someone he wanted to see that carefree again. They’d presented themselves to him, so gradually he’d never realized he was getting used to them.

This was it. This distance, he’d been the one to create it. He had to detach himself from all this, to put back up the walls that kept them safe before he had slowly let it all in. “Home sweet home,” he whispered with no enthusiasm, pained at the perspective of no longer having appreciation for these things in a few weeks’ time. It was for the best, though, that much he was convinced of. For their sake, he had to try and stay at a distance. 

He lied down on his side after taking gloves and shoes off, and burrowed under the one blanket, watching the flames dance until sleep took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ roughly a week before his depart for Soleanna, Shadow went on a weekend-long camping trip with a number of people (Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Big, Omega, Silver, Zero (Infinite), Orbot and Cubot). Each of them got to play some of their music during the roadtrip there.  
> ² on the first morning of said camping trip, Sonic found a geode on his morning run. Endeared by how fascinated Shadow was with it, Sonic let him keep it, despite the two having had a fight just the day before.


	2. Chapter 2

There were sudden knocks at the door, and he woke up with a start and the frenzied movement of someone who knew he slept in too long. Before he could even recall where he was, he had the reflex to reach for his phone and his watch, one after the other. No notifications. So he hadn’t been called in still.

That was odd; it felt like he’d been out for quite some time. Looking to the window, the one source of light pouring into the room, it was safe to assume that it was well into the morning. Another look at the nearest device confirmed that, as well as the fact that he’d been sleeping for a day and a half. How very strange, that no one at all had tried to reach him during that time…

He paid closer attention to the small studio he was in, blinking away the remnants of sleep clouding his mind. A fireplace full of cinders, a couple of boxes on the carpet with carelessly discarded clothing and food items. Near the window, a kitchen isle surrounded with a few tired stools, and a tall cabinet to store clothes in. And on the opposite wall, a large counter divided by a stove, a sink, a small fridge and a small pantry. He started remembering.

And then someone knocked at the door again. _…Who ?_

Senses perked into alert, and he waited, anticipating to hear someone walking away. Instead, whoever was on the other side of the door spoke up. “Hello ?” It sounded like the voice of an old lady. He frowned. “Is anyone home ? I made some muffins.” _What ?_ Shadow swiftly slipped out from underneath his blanket, all but jumping into his shoes as he put his gloves on and made his way to the door. He unlocked it and turned the knob, carefully opening it just enough to get a better look at this person.

His ears hadn’t deceived him. It was an old sheep lady, at least as far as he could tell. Her yellow wool was all puffed up and faded, he could almost picture how bright it might have been once upon a time. It also fell right over her eyes, in abundance, enough that it was impossible to tell whether she could even see through it. She was all bent over and looked like she struggled to even be standing - making it just as impossible to tell how she’d possibly climbed up even one flight of stairs. She must have been half a foot shorter than him, and that was saying something. And she was, in fact, holding a small tray of oddly pink-colored cupcakes.

She smiled when he opened the door a tad wider. “Good morning,” she said with the levity of someone who’d been telling him that every single day for years.

“Uh… have we met ?” he supplied for an answer, starting to suspect his groggy memory had yet to fill him in on just what he’d been doing since he’d gotten here. 

“Oh, no,” she said just as nonchalantly, and Shadow felt his limbs relax¹. “I came by yesterday, but you didn’t answer the door. It was so quiet in there, I thought, maybe the new lad jumped out the window !” And she punctuated her sentence with a fit of wheezy giggles that only ended when she was so shaken with laughter her fragile balance was compromised. 

Shadow blinked, debating just how immoral it would be to close the door in that old lady’s face. “Er… right,” he said instead, briefly glancing back into his apartment to hopefully give a hint as to his imminent intention of returning there.

“Oh, here ! I made you some muffins,” she repeated, holding up the tray, and Shadow immediately picked up the scent of fresh pastry and raspberry. “It’s to say welcome on the block !” she continued enthusiastically, clearly waiting for him to unburden her. “We’re like a family here.”

 _Oh, great._ He rolled his eyes, but her expression didn’t change, leaving him to believe once and for all that she couldn’t see a thing underneath that overgrown wool. Maybe that was why she was so casual about this meeting of theirs. Even people who didn’t know who he was were typically intimidated by his appearance alone. “Thanks, but no thanks. I already ate,” he said somewhat curtly, and, hoping it’d give her a hint for the weeks to come, promptly retreated back into the apartment and closed the door.

Jumbled thoughts kept him from paying attention to what she said before he heard her walking away. What a weird encounter, he thought, staring at the window from across the room. But at least it gave him one good idea.

He double-checked his phone and watch, making sure once again that he wasn’t called in to work, and took a good look around his new place. Nodding to himself, he put on one of the jackets he’d unboxed upon arriving, grabbing keys and phone and money before heading for the window. He’d been planning to unpack the rest of his stuff at the earliest opportunity, but if this weird sheep lady was going to be roaming around the halls trying to rope him into this ‘family’ of hers, now might just be a better time to head into the city and buy some more accessories to make his stay more comfortable. He could finish moving in his belongings later.

Eyes burned on the sun and its light reflecting on the omnipresent snow outside as he forced the frozen window open, and he jumped out without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ The Shadow I write still suffers from mild, occasional amnesia, especially when he spends a lot of time sleeping or otherwise unconscious. It's something he's aware of and is therefore wary of not remembering everything he ought to upon waking up in any context.


	3. Chapter 3

He received his first call the next morning. Finally, there was someone available to ‘show him around’ - as if he hadn’t worked at that same station for the better part of last winter. He was more than ready to get in on the local action, especially so after the mundane things he’d been keeping busy with until then.

He’d spent most of the previous day wandering around, getting re-acquainted with the area, and more notably the nearest food places. He’d also gone out of his way to buy a few pairs of warmer gloves for the cold season, as well as a few items he hadn’t had the foresight of bringing along in the move.

When the sun had started going down, taking the already freezing temperature down with it, he’d gone back to his apartment, carefully scaling up the four flights of stairs to make sure they were clear of any overbearing old lady. Only then did he start making round trips back to his car to get the rest of his stuff. He’d never been one to call any place home, but, by nightfall, this residence of his was considerably more comfortable.

It took some time to warm up the place again after he’d left the one window open all day, but he eventually treated himself to a shower and a meal constituted of the few snacks he had yet to consume on his journey here without having the cold on his mind. And he’d dozed off near the fire, half-expecting to be called in eventually overnight.

So he sprang into action vividly when it happened the following morning, barely taking the time to drink a glass of water and put on his uniform before storming out the door.

He went down the stairs and nearly ran into the old sheep lady somewhere on the second floor. She’d made blueberry muffins, this morning. Her name was Citron, as he’d found out - though he’d only found out because the few people on the block who didn’t ignore her only ever told her to ‘Go away, miss Citron,' when she knocked on their door to distribute her baked goods. It seemed this ‘family’ of hers, as she’d called it, was closer to a delusional dream than reality.

That’s what made him stop in his tracks when she called out to him, even though he was already one floor further down. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She wasn’t even all that invasive, considering. She just wanted to share some of her confections. And she’d made it clear she didn’t know who he was - so what harm could it do to indulge her ?

Shadow climbed back up a few steps to pick one of the muffins from her tray, and let out a simple ‘Thanks’ before heading back down. He was at the main entrance on the ground floor within a few seconds, but he still heard her clearly wishing him a good day.

Only when he was out in the cold did he start picking at the improvised breakfast. It was still warm and all but melted in his mouth; a much better end product than those he’d had in typical ‘homemade’ bakeries near his previous workplace. Too bad no one else bothered trying miss Citron’s baking. They’d gladly have more every morning if they did.

The irony of it gradually made room for a certain sadness for the old lady as he finished the snack. The implication that every morning, she would concoct something for everyone on the block, and every morning, she would get ignored or turned away by everyone she presented it to. But, for some reason, she kept at it. Every morning. _Hm._

That kind of attitude reminded him of someone. Somehow, as he stood out here under the feeble winter sun, he was suddenly reminded of what he’d left behind to be here - something he’d done well to keep out of his mind over the last twenty-four hours or so. Now was no time to start dwelling on it, though, he decided when the cold’s sting began making itself more noticeable. He had somewhere to be.

On that note, he took off without warning, skating his way further into the colder region to find his new headquarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the read ! Next part will be up tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

He was assigned to a certain Agent Holly upon clocking in, someone who knew the place well and was meant to show him around. Agent Holly had some of the brownest eyes he’d ever seen, the brownest hair and the brownest freckles to match. The rest of her skin, though, was about as white as the never-summer snows of this region she likely lived in all year long.

It was something he’d noticed about the people who worked here. They all bore that same pale skin, and that same dark gaze, like the cold and obscurity that reigned over the place more often than not changed them to its image over the years. They were a close-knit group of people, all familiar with one another, and better coordinated than the mass of come-and-go agents he dealt with back in Westopolis. Or anywhere else, really.

But they were also proud, and stubborn. Backed up by the assurance that they had each other’s back, and that they knew their job well, and their workplace even better - there was no convincing Agent Holly that he already knew the place. Nothing she showed him was actually new, but she kept showing it to him all the same, insisting that some of it might have evolved since the last time he was here. It hadn’t.

The station was gigantic. Much like the expanding white desert it rested on, it was mostly cold and empty, taking up room it didn’t need just because it could. Every division he was familiar with could be found here, only, they had half as many employees running them, at most, and twice as much space to work in.

All in all, it was really more of a fortress than a usual G.U.N. base. The area was quiet, for the simple reason that it was so inhospitable - so this specific station was used as a stronghold to regulate communications and, when needed, to guard the organization’s prized possessions. Which Agent Holly refused to divulge anything about, even just whether they had such items under their care at the moment or not.

He received his first assignment after this painfully long tour of the premises, and it seemed that specific theme was to continue for his first days on the job. A simple but long perimeter mission about as boring as having to scout circles around the building.

And so he spent the night moving from one surveillance camera to another, switching out frozen wires and batteries and memory cards for fresh ones, occasionally having to call back to base to be sent his next coordinates seeing as everything was just snow and wind and clouded night sky with no distinguishable landmark to help him find his way. His ears and fingers were completely numb after barely an hour, and his nose only escaped the same fate because he hid it in his chest fur when he moved from one point to the next.

It was no wonder they’d waited for him to do that maintenance job, he thought when he finally went back to base for good as the sun began to rise; if not for his speed, this task would have taken more than one night, likely long enough to let the temperature kill whoever undertook it. A nice little preview of what his winter would be like.

He was told that he’d be expected to join a staff meeting later that day, a typical procedure whenever a new season rolled around and the bosses felt it was time to get everyone together and make the point on what their objectives would be in the following weeks. He briefly considered heading back to his apartment to wait out the few hours until then, but quickly decided against it at the thought of the chill waiting for him outside.

Instead, he went to his locker room to trade his frost-covered uniform for a simple hoodie that would do a better job of keeping him warm while the other garment melted off. He grabbed his phone and some change - they had a coffee machine, at least, if nothing else - and made his way for the lounge.

Just like the rest of the base, it was bigger than necessary, and accordingly empty. And yet, after an hour or so of looking aimlessly through his few social media accounts (mostly replaying some of the videos Omega had published of Team Dark shenanigans between missions earlier that year), some guy apparently thought it’d be a good idea to take a seat on the couch across his and try to strike up a conversation.

“So, you came up here to get a load of fresh air ? Haha.” Shadow tore his gaze off his phone to look at him. Red hair, impish smile, the navy uniform of the statistics division, but otherwise the same dark brown eyes and ghost-white skin as Holly. Shadow looked back down at his phone. “Not a talker, are ya ?” the guy continued with the same overly enthusiastic tone, which got on the hybrid’s nerves even more. He looked up at him again, this time to shoot him a glare before focusing back on the screen, but he saw the statistician shrug from the corner of his eye. “Fine, be that way,” he said. He didn’t sound very bothered. “ ‘m just sayin’, the cold months are a lot colder without friends, ya know ?”

“Fuck off,” Shadow hissed under his breath, but the guy was already leaving. He had a certain zest to his steps, uncharacteristic to most of the people who worked here, and it rubbed him the wrong way some more. Probably some new guy who thought it was his responsibility to make the even newer guy feel welcome. _Hard pass._

For some reason - probably the fact that he eventually stumbled upon that one video of him getting absolutely hammered in a drinking contest - his thoughts went out to Zero. To their little lunch date right before Shadow had left, to how the jackal had made that effort to come out of his shell so they could hang out one last time. To this supposed party of his Shadow had caught wind of before taking off. He wondered how feasible it would be to get enough time off here to attend. Loath as he was to admit it, he already kind of missed the guy. He wondered if he’d be welcome at all.

The meeting went by rather quickly; or so it seemed, for something that still took all of people’s lunchtime and a portion of the afternoon. As it turned out, the woman in charge of the station had the foresight to print out documents for everyone containing every piece of relevant information that would be discussed during the briefing. So Shadow read it all, as people were talking, and when he got bored of listening to people talk, he turned on some music, listening to it for the remaining hours unbeknownst to everyone else - a possibility courtesy of a certain hedgehog and his genius little fox brother¹.

He had them to thank for making the rest of his day bearable, he decided as he was heading out, having been granted to take the rest of the day off and being on standby for the next. He promised himself to do so once he got back to his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the read once again ! Next part will be up tomorrow.
> 
> ¹ Upon learning Shadow would not be around for the holidays, Sonic gave him a Christmas present before his departure: a pair of wireless headphones that appear to be nothing more than ear studs, so that Shadow could listen to music on the job. It's something Sonic had asked Tails to design earlier in the fall after a conversation with Shadow taught him the agent was not allowed to use such devices inside headquarters.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is my personal favorite out of the entire arc. Hope you enjoy !

He woke up with a strange feeling of isolation that day - one stronger than usual. He guessed he’d only slept a regular night, given how quickly he recalled the improvised conversation he’d had over texts with a certain fox¹ before he turned in. Maybe that was what gave him such a sense of detachment. Knowing, without a shadow of doubt, that where he’d left people behind, the world kept turning. _Life doesn’t stop for anyone._ It was both reassuring, and depressing.

Or maybe it was the ongoing storm that made it impossible to tell whether it was even daytime. After stretching and taking a look at his communicator glowing with the familiar light dictating he was on standby, he went up to the window. It was shaking loudly, strong gusts of wind hitting the building head-on every thirty seconds or so. He could barely see down in the street, whirling flurries clouding most of the picture.

Before letting himself wonder what he’d do with his day, he lit up a fire with some of the new logs that had been delivered to his doorstep sometime yesterday, and went on to getting some sustenance. He hadn’t been too extravagant in his food purchases still; he wasn’t one for cooking much and had little storage space. But out here in his little isolated apartment in the middle of nowhere, no one could stop him from cracking open egg after egg and swallowing their content raw, only interrupted when sipping a glass of cranberry juice. One of the many advantages of independence.

He promptly brushed his teeth then, if only to get rid of the aftertaste, and went back to sit on his mattress with the wind still howling outside. His communicator kept flashing steadily, but somehow he got the feeling he’d be spending the day in. It was well into the morning, and with that storm raging, they’d likely decided to keep essential personnel only. _Oh well._

He pulled out his laptop to play recent news reports for background noise, and picked up his shoes to do a bit of maintenance. They’d been working fine when he’d returned from work, but he wanted to double-check that no snow or ice had knocked something out of place in there after his fun little assignment the other night. He was probably due to clean out the needles and check the wires anyway.

The procedure was second nature, and soon his focus was drifting away, his mind disconnecting from the task at hand to go back to that conversation he’d had with Tails. That everyone was fine, and that things had been mostly quiet. He winced. Somehow, knowing everyone, those statements were a bit contradictory.

He didn’t want to worry about Sonic. From the sound of it, he was treating this time like some kind of vacation, which was a good thing. Probably.

Shadow was mostly concerned about Silver². As much as he wanted to get behind Tails’ explanation that he was merely taking it easy due to settling in, the hybrid also clearly recalled when the young psychic had moved into his place. How, just a couple days after, he’d taken the liberty of decorating the whole apartment and been very shameless and loud about it.

Of all the things Shadow had left behind to come here, Silver had to be the one that felt the most wrong. After talking him into staying³, into working on making this era his home as best he could with the assurance that they at least shared that feeling of not belonging, the agent had just… left. He trusted that Silver understood his reasons weren’t personal or related to their talks, but it didn’t ease the guilt much, especially knowing the younger hedgehog had gone quiet now.

They’d never been typical roommates. Shadow’s working schedule was as irregular as they came, and Silver spent more than his fair share of time helping out with the Resistance. They’d rarely actually cohabited together, let alone when one of them wasn’t just there to rest. And the last few days had been so busy, with them recouping from the camping trip, Shadow sparing what little time he had left to go out with Sonic and Zero, one after the other, and then just being busy getting ready to move out. They’d hardly shared any time together at all.

He remembered what Silver had told him when he’d announced his departure⁴. How he’d tried to brush it off and shoved it at the back of his mind, knowing all too well that it might have swayed his decision if he’d let it fester. He hoped Silver really was okay.

Then, he realized he’d put down the shoes at some point, and began fidgeting with whatever else had been within reach. A red jacket, or more specifically, the print of his team’s improvised logo on its shoulder. He pinched the fabric between his fingers for a minute, as if looking for something in the embroidery. And he looked at the pile of clothing he’d yet to properly put away. He had an idea.

He put the shoes on and stood up to go grab one - a high-collar, dark grey jacket with light sleeves - and headed out, phone and communicator in tow.

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out where miss Citron lived. Besides the fact that it had to be one of the apartments on the ground floor, it was the only one outside of which rested a few boxes of stuff she wanted to give away. It was like a perpetual yard sale her neighbors were free to dig into; books, picture frames, mundane decorations, even clothes. He’d never taken the time to fully inspect it, but if he could find what he was looking for anywhere in this building, it’d be there.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed miss Citron’s hearing was proportionally as good as her eyesight was bad; he’d only been rummaging through one of the boxes for a minute when the door opened, revealing the small faded-yellow sheep. “Are you looking for something ?”

“Uh…” He froze like a deer caught in the headlights, mentally debating whether he should be ashamed of what he was doing or not. These _were_ things to give away, right ? Why did her friendly tone make him feel like a thief ? The uncertainty, mixed with Citron’s curious smile, pulled the truth out of him. “Some patch of… white… fabric ?”

* * *

He should have anticipated being invited in, and feeling an odd obligation to not decline. What he didn’t anticipate was how… tolerable Citron turned out to be. Sure, she offered him food, she asked questions, but after a few ‘no thank you’s and dismissive answers, she left him be.

She found what he was looking for and even more; on top of some leftover fabric bearing the colors he wanted, she let him have her entire sewing kit, full of threads and needles, among other things. The scissors were useful, too. Where he could usually make-do with a knife just fine, this was delicate enough that it made a significant difference.

He was no artist, and had never come close to messing with embroidery, but after poking his thumb with the needle and swearing under his breath at knots randomly giving out a few times, he managed to produce something… satisfactory. It was clumsy work, but it would do.

“What do you think ?” he asked the old lady as she was making her umpteenth back-and-forth walk near the small table she’d let him settle on, too obviously curious as to what he was concocting. As if to confirm his suspicions that she was blind, or close to it, she swept her hand across his work rather than looking at it.

“You’ve never done this before, hm ?” she said in response, and Shadow rolled his eyes, having to still his tongue so the few snarky replies he thought up didn’t escape him. He just scoffed instead. “What’s it for ?” she continued, her good humor unfazed by his attitude.

He looked back down at what he’d done, at the yellow thread irregularly poking in and out of the loosely cut out shape. _It’s none of your business_ , he had the reflex to think, and almost said, just as he had for every other question she’d asked him earlier. But, he realized, that was against the point of all this. “To remember someone by,” he said instead, idly messing with the end knot of his improvised sewing project.

“Someone dead ?” she countered immediately, but the tone she used had the same lightness to it. 

“No, just… someone I miss.” He felt a bit tense, all of a sudden. Awkward. Even more so that, despite the short silence that followed, he could practically feel that Citron was completely unbothered, unlike him.

“I know you’re gonna tell me it’s none of my business, lad, but I really thought it was your decision to come here.”

“It was.” He wanted to sound self-assured, confident, but that statement almost came out as a question. He wondered how odd this all sounded to this old lady, who seemed to lead such a simple life of acting on her goodhearted whims all day and every day. He wondered if she’d always lived her life so simply, or if, on the contrary, she’d had such a complicated life that she’d decided to treat herself to some simplicity for the rest of it.

“Hmm…” was all she offered for an answer. She just walked to the fridge, served herself a glass of water, and walked back to her sofa and turned on the TV. 

And Shadow went back to his little endeavor of the day, cutting out the same shape in a different color of fabric and superimposing onto his jacket with the careful but still clumsy back-and-forth of a thread and needle. His second attempt didn’t look that much better, but it was completed considerably faster. He ought to try having these sorts of conversation before doing manual tasks more often, he thought, bittersweet. With him being busy thinking into the implications of what Citron had made him say, he hadn’t poked himself with the needle even once.

She made no comment when he let her feel the second patch, but she spoke up when he started working on a third one. “That’s a lot of people to be missing that much,” she said. He perked up, pausing what he was doing to make a face.

“Hm.”

“A lot of not-dead people to be staying away from.”

“I know.” His tone was irritated now, his patience running thin. For all that she was speaking innocently and nonchalantly, it sure sounded like she was trying to get a point across.

He didn’t let her touch the final product, but she stood up when he started putting everything away, clearly getting ready to leave. She just walked over and stood near the table, like she was waiting for parting words of some sort. And then, just when Shadow was beginning to feel _very_ inadequate about leaving without saying anything, she pulled her hand over the table and tapped her finger on his phone that was still resting there.

He understood that she wasn’t just reminding him that it was there and not to forget it. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, picking up the device and shoving it into the pocket of his now slightly modified jacket. And, just as he was heading out, because it _really_ felt like he had just let her win somehow; “…for the fabric.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ there was a text conversation between Shadow and Tails in-between chapters, where Shadow thanked Tails for the headphones and asked how everyone was doing. He was mainly told Sonic had taken off to travel and Silver was quietly settling in.  
> ² over the last months, Shadow had become particularly protective of Silver. After hearing the younger hedgehog was essentially homeless, Shadow took him in and they became roommates. Shadow made sure that Silver could go live with Sonic during his absence before he left.  
> ³ shortly after he had moved in with Shadow, Silver expressed his unease with living in this time and feeling like he didn't belong, and confessed that he planned to return to his time before long. Shadow talked him into staying by explaining he was out of his time as well, but had chosen to stay and make the best of the present he was given regardless.  
> ⁴ when Shadow announced that he was leaving and that his protégé would move in with Sonic for the winter, Silver didn't take it well and asked him to reconsider, alluding that he viewed Shadow as family, and making a point to let him know that he was wanted there and that no one was happy to see him leave.


	6. Chapter 6

For all the time that he spent on his own since getting here, it seemed he could never stay focused on a single train of thought for very long. After his odd afternoon spent with miss Citron trying to stitch something unique onto one of his jackets, he’d gone through the night simultaneously trying not to mull over what she’d said to him while making some semblance of dinner, and psyching himself up to at least ask Zero about this party of his. It couldn’t hurt to just ask, he thought. It didn’t commit him to anything.

As soon as basic information was acquired, though, his communicator started beeping wildly after over twenty-four hours of being on standby without a word from headquarters. It meant that for the next few hours, he’d be worrying about some assignment instead of whether or not it was a good idea to attend.

Agent Holly greeted him at the entrance, like she’d been anxiously waiting for his arrival. She looked even paler than usual as she led him to some briefing room where her boss would be telling him about his next mission, and he could have sworn she tensed up when he asked why he couldn’t just get the word from the usual task manager. This didn’t bode well.

The person in charge of the station was a guy named George, and he shared a lot of physical features with the Commander. Same short, grey hair, same heavy wrinkles, same hardened expression. His most noticeable physical trait, though, were his hands. His knuckles bore the characteristic white skin of scarred frost bites. It was probably safe to assume he’d directed this base ever since it had been built.

Shadow was alone with Director George and Agent Holly in this small meeting room about as cold and dark as everything else around here. They sat him down with a small pile of stapled sheets to look over. As far as he could tell, they were radio readings of some area that had been silent for a very long time. Up until… about an hour earlier. “What am I looking at ?” he asked with a hint of exasperation, knowing they were just waiting for him to say something before giving him proper explanations.

“When the storm settled and we got our instruments back online, we picked up the first radio activity in a year in area 42,” Holly explained, nodding at the paper. Shadow looked back down, taking note of what he’d failed to see when first looking it over.

“Area 42,” he repeated. And then he realized why that sounded so familiar. “But that’s–”

“Where Doctor Eggman’s old base was located,” George completed for him with a somber look.

Shadow just squinted at the papers again, trying to understand the implications here. Eggman’s base in White Acropolis was what had originally drawn Shadow and his team to Soleanna when he’d first started working for G.U.N. Of course, with Solaris out of the picture and the City of Water being less of an interest to the evil genius, the base in question had been less impressive in this current timeline. It had taken more time to locate, but Team Dark had stormed it the previous winter.

“Why would there be no readings at all until now ?” he asked, suspicions growing. “Didn’t you set up a perimeter after we took it ?” The uncomfortable silence and nervous glance shared by the two people before him was all he needed for an answer. “Are you kidding me ?”

“We sent out a team to clean it up after the dust settled,” Holly explained urgently, and defensively. “But another bad storm came in. We can only communicate with our agents in that area on a good day, because it’s so far in the middle of nowhere. We had to call them back in and postpone the settlements. But…”

“But you never did.” He was already feeling an incoming headache with that revelation. “You’re telling me you left a destroyed base, once run by the most wanted criminal in the world, full of expensive and dangerous equipment, just sitting back there unsupervised and completely accessible to anyone for over a year ?”

“We kept an eye on it,” Holly argued with an upsurge of confidence. “Our radio team never stopped scanning over that region.”

“You just told me your equipment can only get feedback from there when the weather’s nice.” And just like that, her assurance was gone again.

“No one would wander out there when the weather isn’t nice,” she tried for a counter, but Shadow wasn’t fazed.

“For fuck’s sake,” he said under his breath, and frowned even more when the two suddenly looked scandalized. “Guess again. The doctor will have gone back for anything he could salvage. Wrongdoers would seize any opportunity to get their hands on something they can use against you. Even civilians wouldn’t hesitate to grab some of the expensive equipment leftover for resales. And you just let them. _For a whole year_.”

“Your job isn’t to tell us what we should and shouldn’t do,” George interjected, finally speaking up to try and regain control of the situation. “You’re gonna do as you’re bid, and right now, you’re bid to go over there and make sure the area’s clear.”

Shadow glared daggers at him. Now more than earlier, he could feel the resemblance between George and Tower in the way he was being ordered around like some insentient tool. The only difference was that Tower would never have made that kind of beginner mistake in the first place. “Fine,” he hissed, grabbing the papers as he stood up to keep a copy of the coordinates. “But you,” he added before heading out, “need to get your shit together.”


	7. Chapter 7

He put on a heavy coat for the occasion, and had to bring along an also inconveniently heavy backpack to get proper readings onsite in case the source wasn’t obvious. With that hindering his movements on top of having to work his way through increasing amounts of snow, it took a while to actually get there.

He recognized it from a distance, coming in from the same woods as he had all that time ago, recognizing the damaged but high steel walls that used to serve as a defense. The lights were all out, though, and several feet of snow covered everything he could see from his spot just outside the perimeter of the base. There were no footprints beside his own, either. It looked effectively abandoned.

His communicator beeped. “How’s it looking ?” It was Holly. “We’re starting to lose you on the radar.”

“No heat signature,” he responded, checking the scan on the small device. “But then again, I doubt anyone out here would be radiating heat.” He’d put on finger-less gloves for this mission so he could still handle delicate electronics despite the numbness inflicted by the chill, but he’d found himself hiding his hands in his pockets as a reflex more often than not.

“Pay attention,” Holly said, as if she was advising a beginner. “Listen closely.”

“I can’t hear shit. The wind’s picking up again.” He checked the radio device tucked in one of the backpack pockets, but it was just static. If there was anything emitted from that base, he wouldn’t be picking it up out here. “I’m going in.”

“Keep me posted.” Holly’s voice turned into static as well.

He went in through the hole Omega had blown for an entrance a year ago, corroded metal and blasted wires still sticking out here and there. The first few things that came in sight were ravaged and swept over with snow and dirt. The station hadn’t been restored, that much was for sure. There was no way to tell if someone had made off with any equipment that might have been left out here after the seize, but there was definitely some of it left. Whether this catacomb of a base was still a target for greedy criminals was still up in the air.

He ventured on carefully, always listening for noise and checking around the corner before turning it. Eggman had submitted the place through the good old self-destruct treatment when it had been under attack, meaning the central portion of the building and its roof had been completely wiped out. It wasn’t very useful in terms of finding whatever tool may have given off that odd reading they’d picked up hours earlier, but it was practical in the sense that a good part of the indoors was littered with snow, making it easier to tell that no one had been around here recently.

“There’s no one here,” he concluded into his watch, but he received nothing but static as a response. “Holly ?” Still no answer. _Huh._ They could hear one another just fine just outside these walls. Was the radio reception that bad in here ?

After another swift look around, he deemed it safe to drop the bag and start setting up a bigger device to get better readings. Everything came out as a straight line. There was absolutely nothing coming in. He tried getting through to headquarters again to deliver the news, without success. The interceptor also stayed still. _Wait, what ?_

That’s when it hit him. There was nothing coming in, but there was nothing going out, either. The device he’d set up wasn’t even picking up on his communicator’s waves, and he was standing right next to it. There was nothing natural about that.

He turned around to scan his surroundings again, suddenly hit by the unpleasant feeling that he was being watched. He disassembled the receptor quickly and headed back out, repetitively signaling for headquarters to come in until finally his calls made it out and he received a response.

“Did you find something ?” It was Holly again. 

“I found nothing. Literally. There’s something here that makes it so radio wavelengths can’t be read. I think someone installed some kind of device somewhere that emulates radio silence,” he explained, sending back to base the short null reading he’d recorded.

“Couldn’t it be something the doctor set up himself that happens to still be working ?”

“No, we could communicate just fine when we stormed that base last year. Whatever’s causing this was installed after that.”

“Why would anyone do that ?”

“To pillage this place while going under the radar. Either they’re shifty enough to not need radio communications at all, or they were crafty enough to design a special frequency they can read over the nulled one.”

“You’re saying someone’s still frequenting that place ?”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look like it, but I have trouble believing anyone would leave a handy item like that behind.”

“…Alright, come back to headquarters, we’ll send a proper team to investigate-”

“No,” he interrupted sternly, wanting to roll his eyes at her suggestion of dragging this out for even longer. “I’m gonna look for it now while I’m here. I can use both trackers to see where exactly communications get cut off and set up a perimeter. I’ll get a clear idea of where the source should be.”

“That’ll take a while.”

“Not as long as waiting for you to come out here.”

“You’re gonna freeze to death out there.”

“I can hope.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Not trying to be funny.”

He got no answer after that, so he figured that was the closest thing to a ‘good luck’ as he’d get. He had his work cut out for him. It was a very slow process, taking one step forward, two steps back, sending signal after signal between his different communication devices to see where exactly the readings were blocked out and draw the line - literally. He had no actual equipment to set a perimeter, so he just traced a line in the snow, doing his best to make it obviously different from his more and more sluggish footsteps. And he had to keep up the pace. With the wind growing stronger every few minutes, his work could be all gone within an hour or two.

That’s about how long it took, in the end, and he had to freshen up his drawing once he’d come full circle. It would have taken an aerial view to pinpoint the exact location of the source, but he could at least climb up one of the damaged walls to get an approximate idea.

He was eager to go back inside by then. Even if it was just as cold, the walls provided shelter from the wind and the snow, to an extent - something he’d taken for granted on his first visit. He located what he was looking for rather quickly, thankfully. It was in the corner of an half-blasted room, just outside the circle of completely roof-less and decimated portion of the building. He wouldn’t have noticed it at first, but it was all too obvious now.

It was built from the remnants of one of Eggman’s robots. It made sense, come to think of it; the doctor knew how to program his creations so they were unhackable through air waves alone. That particular function had just been re-purposed by a third party.

A third party rather confident as to its success, apparently, as they hadn’t designed any complicated way to put it out of function. If Shadow had been worried he’d have to destroy the engine to get any kind of readings around here, he was quickly proven wrong when he deactivated it with the simple press of a button. _Good_ , he thought, satisfied. This way he could take that back to headquarters too, after the fact.

He set up the bigger receptor again, and it lit up like a Christmas tree this time. It was nothing he could decipher - probably the encrypted frequency whoever was behind this used to bypass their own technology - but it was something. He recorded it for several minutes, and remembered to plug in an extra memory chip to save a copy for a certain fox.

He used the breather to try and warm up a little bit, rubbing his hands together and hiding his nose and mouth into his overgrown chest fur now that he wasn’t active or on high alert. He paced around both electronics as he waited for an undetermined period of time, eventually starting to wonder for how long the radio-canceler device had been sitting here. Then he began taking notice of what else was in the room. Several large fans placarded to the few still-existent walls, all lacking the frosted texture covering everything else in the building. Like they’d been put in recently, or were maintained frequently. Like… someone was regularly trying to erase their footprints…

The feeling of being watched returned to him at once, along with the realization that he had his back to one of the doorways of the room. He turned around just in time to see a flash of claws slashing at his face, barely missing his eye and scraping right beneath his nose and over his mouth instead. He jumped back in recoil, warm blood seeping out over his lips already, and took in the newcomer who seemed just as shocked to be facing him.

She was a snow leopard, and almost twice his height, as far as he could tell. She held some kind of oddly-shaped yellow weapon, but that was as far as his observation got. She pointed it at him, and he didn’t wait to figure out what it was to pivot around her and out of the way. It fired an electrified-looking rope, and he realized - it was a Wispon. The split second it took for her to pull the electric string back in was all he needed to slam into her with built-up momentum, making her lose her balance and fall over. He grabbed the Wispon and jumped back at a safe distance; despite the cold, he could definitely feel the sting those sharp claws had left.

“This doesn’t belong to you,” he said, tossing the weapon out of both their reach.

“They gave it to me, didn’t they ?” she replied maliciously as she got back up on her feet, and Shadow immediately decided he didn’t like the sound of that at all. 

She was quick on her feet for someone her size, but still no match for him, even with his heavy leather coat on and mildly torpid limbs. He strafed around her quickly enough to keep her disoriented, and when she got fed up with watching him dance around and tried to lunge at him, he just dived and knocked her feet from underneath her. She toppled over again, and this time he didn’t wait to jump on top of her and pull her wrists into a pair of handcuffs. “You can thank Chaos I had these in my pockets,” he said, drawing a dark kind of amusement when she struggled to get back on her feet and failed because she couldn’t press her hands to the ground. “The Wispon cord would have been even less comfortable.”

“Screw you,” she spat, and he could almost hear the roar underlying her voice.

“You’re welcome,” he shrugged, retreating back to the corner where his devices were still recording readings. And he messaged back headquarters, requesting some assistance to take someone into custody. Holly sounded very alarmed, but his overly confident tone seemed to reassure her. He was good at doing those after completing an assignment.

He waited for backup sitting next to his immobilized victim and casually toying with the one weapon he’d brought along - his favorite knife - so any of Stellar’s friends, as he eventually learned that was her name, wouldn’t get any ideas about attempting a bold rescue. If she had any associates at all, that is. She wasn’t too keen on talking, and he wasn’t too keen on pulling out his interrogation tactics. Not until proper G.U.N. specialists had had a go at her, anyway.

He had enough on his mind, with the implication that she used to be a part of the Resistance. Had she gone rogue, and sided with the enemy ? Or was she simply using their technology for selfish, illegal endeavors ? Either way, he wasn’t fond of the idea that a bunch of morally compromised people were now roaming around the globe armed with Tails’ designs.

If nothing else, though, the thought reminded him to grab the second memory chip and hide it in his clothes before backup showed up and took hold of both his prisoner and his equipment.

Holly herself was among the agents present, surprisingly enough. Also surprisingly, she seemed more concerned about the deep scratches on his muzzle and the frost covering his coat than the state of the mission. “I’m supposed to tell you to go back to base and file in your report,” she said after he gave her a proper explanation and she expressed her concerns. “But I’ll cover for you if you want to just go home and do that another day.”

Shadow just blinked at her for a moment, deciding once and for all that she reminded him of Rouge, in some ways. Her outburst of gratitude - or at least, that’s what he assumed that was - was nearly enough to motivate him to just go file in that report and get it over with. Nearly. But it seemed bad form to refuse such a generous offer, especially now that he’d been out here for several hours and that half of his face was likely covered in frozen blood. He could use some warmth, and some rest.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he agreed with a nod, and began diverting his course towards his little home of an apartment rather than sticking with the rest of the agents walking back to the vehicle that would be returning to headquarters. “Good luck with that,” he added without turning back.

He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him, what with the strong winds that seemed to reduce by half how close people needed to be to stay within earshot. But he figured she had, because he could have sworn somewhere through the gusty whistling, he heard her say “Thank you.”


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing he was concerned with when stepping back into his studio was getting warm. Without the sense of purpose and adrenaline that had carried him through his mission, the freezing temperatures were even more noticeable. It didn’t just render him numb anymore; the cold was biting right down to his bones everywhere his nerves weren’t already unresponsive.

He discarded everything he was wearing as soon as he came inside, for it seemed the cold had attached itself to even his clothes. He lit up a fire to get some warmth spreading in the little apartment, and disappeared into the bathroom, eager to shake off the snow and frost accumulated in his fur, and hopefully get rid of this lasting chill with a lukewarm shower.

He stopped in his tracks when he caught a glimpse of himself in the tiny mirror hanging over the sink - or more specifically, of his bloodied muzzle. _Oh. Right._ It was no wonder it had slipped his mind, with how cold it was, the wound had frozen within a minute. The scratches weren’t very wide, but they were deep; it was obvious he would have gotten blood all over himself if the chill hadn’t coagulated it so quickly.

While it might have scarred someone else for good, he knew it’d be completely gone in a week. Two, at most. But right now, it looked pretty messy.

His encounter with Stellar had been brief, but it’d left more than those three scratches behind. The implication that some former Resistance members were going rogue with custom weapons and causing trouble, and the fact that he’d had to clean up one of G.U.N.’s messes for the umpteenth time, it all left him feeling rather… pointless. For all that he believed, on a good day, that he was well-positioned to make a difference, it was coming down from the high of missions like this that his faith faltered.

The sting of his injury slowly reared itself back as he wiped his face with a wet towel, getting rid of both the cold and the dried blood, sense of feeling returning to that general area simultaneously. His motivation for a shower slipped away, and he found himself sliding down to a sitting position in the corner of the bathroom instead, reaching for his phone that he’d left untouched since taking off for the assignment.

That’s when he saw the text¹. He wasn’t sure when it had come in. He wasn’t even sure what time it was now - he’d lost track, and the dark, cloudy ceiling that had burdened the region for days now didn’t help in giving any indications.

He tried to let it be a good distraction. Tried to let that familiar name and the emotions tied to it cheer him up, in some way. It had been weeks since he’d heard anything from the blue blur himself. He should have been happy to get some sign of life, right ?

But he came up empty. He just stared at the words, reading them over and over, and failing to let the well-wish make its way. _I’m really not,_ he thought in response. He couldn’t bring himself to actually answer, so he just thought it, like if he did so hard enough, his growing despair might be heard. But it wasn’t. The screen stayed the same, and no one, nowhere, would know how miserable he was feeling right now.

Just as it should be, he decided, and he swallowed thickly, strangled by the overwhelming feeling of isolation. But he managed one last thought, before his mind went blank, catching a glimpse of the message again. _I hope you’re doing better than me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ this particular chapter was originally prompted by Sonic texting Shadow "Hey! Hope youre havin a good day!! :D", which is the first personalized message Shadow receives from him since leaving.


	9. Chapter 9

He must have spent an hour or two like this, not quite passed out but not really conscious either, just curled up in the corner of the room and trying to cope with a feeling of helplessness drowning out all his senses. How tempted he was, so many times, to reach for his phone and send someone, _anyone_ , a hint as to how bad things felt. How desperate he was to alleviate even slightly this crushing loneliness.

But he just waited it out. This was how it should be. He couldn’t bother anyone like this, couldn’t hurt anyone. Maybe if he was lucky the world would forget altogether, and he could just waste away in this corner until… until what ?

 _Just do something,_ he urged himself eventually, knowing he could overcome his own stupor if he just stopped letting it immobilize him. And with very little conviction, he got to his feet. He just stood there for a few minutes, blank stare ahead, still trying to shake himself into action. _Just do something_.

His mind was still hazy and he was just going through the motions aimlessly, but he finally took that shower, warding off the shivers that constantly threatened to take over, and he ingested some food. What exactly, he forgot immediately after - probably some crackers he still had laying around. And he went back to sit on his mattress.

Truth be told, some part of him knew why his whole brain seemed to be shutting down on itself. He was actively trying to avoid thinking about something in particular - a thought so overpowering it was easier to not think at all than try to stay distracted. But this wasn’t the first time he was going down this roundabout path of self-destruction, and he knew what laid at the end of the line if he let himself be taken there. _Just do something._

On a whim of spontaneity, he turned on his laptop and went to fetch his guitar, still resting up against the wall near the wardrobe. He hadn’t expected to play while he was here, but dark times called for extreme measures. He pulled up a tab software he used for practice, strumming aimlessly for some time before he cared to play whichever song he had saved on there.

His heart wasn’t in it. All he could think of was the last time he played¹, how everything felt right, how he didn’t even mind messing up some of the chords. Now he had no patience for his own mistakes, groaning and skipping to the next song for every missed note, unable to let his mind go blank and just play along.

[One of them](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7pot1DWHOo) eventually caught onto his mood, though. He was humming along to the imaginary lyrics just a few sentences in. A song with such easy tabs and so many backup instruments covering the background, he couldn’t even tell when he wasn’t doing it right. By the time the last chorus rolled around, the words escaped him without warning.

_“ Forget December, it won’t be better ♪ “  
“ Than I remember it before ♪ “  
“ And this month only, will be so lonely ♪ “  
“ But not so homely anymore ♪ “_

_“ Forget December, it won’t be better ♪ “  
_ _“ Than I remember it before ♪ “  
_ _“ A silent night won’t feel quite right ♪ “  
_ _“ It’s not so silent anymore ♪ “  
_ _“ Anymore, anymore, anymore… ♪ “_

_“ On Christmas morning ♪ “_  
“ Outside it was pouring ♪ “  
“ All was hopeless in this home ♪ “

He was very still for the moment that followed, throat dry, fingers hovering over the strings, eyes staring blankly at the screen. It was suddenly very silent indeed. He couldn’t shush the thoughts that flooded in anymore.

He’d been hoping things might be different this year. What Silver and Sonic had said, about the holidays, about it being a time to share with those he cared for - it had stuck with him like no other notion he’d tried to repress before. He _wanted_ that. He wanted it so badly, to have important people like that in his life once again. But he couldn’t - not if he really did care for them.

It didn’t matter, anyway. It was too late, he thought, glancing at his phone, barely out of reach. He’d made a decision, and stuck with it, and everyone was better for it. Silver had a home worthy of that name. Sonic was finally okay. After receiving vague messages from the hero over the past weeks, odd pictures of places he was visiting and random posts from various social media, Shadow had finally received an actual message from him, everything about it indicating that the speedster was just fine, at last.

He’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted. For his rival to go back to his old ways, to move on from the mess that had been the past few months. He knew it would hurt - he remembered how shattered he’d felt, at the lake², exchanging promises that they would never be this close again. But this was a different kind of pain than he’d anticipated. One he wasn’t sure he could endure as it was.

 _Just do something._ He stared at the coat he’d carelessly discarded when returning from his mission, picturing the knife he knew was tucked in a buckle somewhere on there. He knew no better way to deal with pain than focusing it somewhere else.

Balling his fist over the handle of his instrument, strings dug into his fingers, and he recalled something that had been said, that night, like a reoccurring plea not to do this. _Just…_ take care _of yourself, okay ?_ _Please?_ How bittersweet that concern was, in hindsight, knowing that by now, Sonic probably couldn’t care less what became of him. _He’s moved on,_ Shadow kept thinking. _It’s a good thing._

He stood up in a sudden surge of frustration and defiance. He wasn’t going to break his promise tonight, but he could certainly keep himself distracted in some other way. And prove that he could move on, too.

He put on the first jacket he came across and headed out, determined to scout the local clubs and find a partner to spend the night with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ Sonic had brought his guitar on the camping trip and played both nights around the campfire. The second night, Shadow spontaneously asked to borrow it and played a song of his own.  
> ² That same night after everyone went to sleep, Sonic sneaked out of his tent from not being able to sleep. Shadow went to find him to clear the air, knowing it was their last chance to have a one-on-one conversation before he left for White Acropolis. They cuddled up under the same blanket and admitted their feelings for each other, after which Shadow stressed it was why he needed to leave, that he couldn't risk it. Sonic, in an effort to be understanding and show him how much he cared, chose to respect that and accepted that they part ways.


	10. Chapter 10

For some reason, he was always the first to wake up. Maybe because of his memory’s little snags whenever he let himself delve into unconsciousness - his body eventually stopped recognizing the presence at his side and he’d wake up alerted by a warning that a stranger was dangerously close. Which, all things considered, wasn’t entirely wrong.

In a way, it was a blessing, at least in these circumstances. Not remembering how he’d gotten there, the exact details of how the night had ended - it made it that much easier to just… leave.

The room was still plunged in darkness, he couldn’t see whoever it was that laid beside him. All he could register was a furry arm thrown across his chest and the mixed scent of sweat and perfume. He didn’t need to know who it was or what they looked like to start regretting, and to feel a crude urge to be anywhere but here.

He promptly slipped out of the person’s hold, moving his focus elsewhere before his vision could adjust to the obscurity. He located his shoes and his gloves and his jacket, picked them up and put them on before heading for what he guessed was the exit. Just as he passed the doorway of the bedroom, he heard movement behind him, the shifting of some bed sheets.

“You’re leaving ?” It sounded like a female voice.

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna call later ?”

“No.”

His answer silenced her for a second. Maybe more, but he wouldn’t know; he was gone the next instant.

It must have been around six in the morning, judging by the lighting outside. It was still dark, but there was a certain hint of light spread across the sky, hinting that the sun would show its face within the next hour or so. It was a cold morning, he thought when stepping out, but then again, they all were around here.

He just walked on for a few paces, and only when he was fully rid of the ghost of her presence did he look back to get an idea of the kind of building he’d exited. It was some small, cheap motel, one with the ‘Vacancy’ sign only half functional. Whatever bar or club he’d picked up this unfortunate soul at probably wasn’t too far. He let his steps take him there, and then slowly found his way back to his apartment complex.

He felt more and more disgusted with himself as he began recalling the details of his escapade one by one. How selfish and inappropriate and frankly pathetic of a behavior it was. Feeling so desperate to keep his mind off his pain and sentiments he hadn’t thought twice before heading into that crass building. His ears assailed by a faulty bass line, the strong smell of smoke and liquor, purple fur with a purple dress and purple lipstick, but green eyes. It’d been something about those green eyes.

He felt so sloppy, after the fact. The only benefit this adventure had brought being that it had halted the ceaseless decline of his will to keep existing. But, all in all, he was still stuck pretty damn close to rock bottom.

When he entered the building, he stared up at the stairs, having to psych himself up to climb them. He thought of what awaited him up there. His tiny, empty room, where everything would be just as he left it yesterday. Usually, it was a comforting thought. Not today.

He considered just heading back out, taking a walk around the block or maybe just finding some tired breakfast place to wallow in for the morning. Instead, he went to knock at miss Citron’s door, and unsurprisingly, she answered within a minute. “Hi,” he said for a greeting, and she perked up a bit, like she recognized his voice. “Do you… have some coffee, by any chance ?”

* * *

Just like the first time he’d shown up at her door, Citron invited him in and sat him down somewhere comfortable, refusing to let him help with that coffee, let alone make it himself. She didn’t ask any questions, didn’t make any comments - just hummed a simple tune as she got some water boiling and infused it with the coveted caffeine. “I presume you want it black ?” she asked after a moment.

He’d been sitting in a sofa near her window, quietly taking in the sunrise. It wasn’t an ideal view; there was little to see aside from buildings and snow-covered streets and sidewalks, there was no way to actually see the sun. But there was still a certain charm to seeing the sky turn from a dark blue to a soft gold. The clouds had finally cleared the region, for the most part. It seemed like it’d be a nice day - the first in quite a few.

The question seized his attention, and he squinted at her, unsure what he should take from that implication. He just nodded. “Please.”

She brought him a tall mug of the drink in question, and went to sit across from him, her attention clearly on him. She was silent for a moment, just smiling, and he held her non-existent gaze questioningly until she finally spoke. “You’ve been busy.”

He frowned again. Could she see, after all ? He did pick up those nasty scratches since the last time they’d been face-to-face. Or maybe she could smell it on him. He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very self-conscious. He knew he had a stranger’s scent all over him. But sheep didn’t have such a good sense of smell, did they ? “How can you tell ?” he asked, trying to sound more curious than defensive.

“Your voice, dear,” she replied immediately. He perceived some kind of amusement in her tone. “You sound tired.” He didn’t answer, just nodded knowingly and looked back out the window as he took a sip of his beverage. A pretty good one, as far as black coffees went. “They left a big hole, hm ?” she continued after a moment. “Those people you miss.”

Again, it rubbed him the wrong way, how she exploited what little insight he’d given her. But it seemed impolite to let her know that when he was sitting by her windowsill, in her sofa, drink her coffee out of her mug. “I’m trying to move on,” he just declared flatly, punctuating his sentence with another sip.

“Maybe you’re doing it wrong,” she suggested.

He scoffed. “I don’t think there’s a right way to go about this.”

“Sure there is. You managed the other day, doing that clumsy patchwork all afternoon. Oh, you can tell me it’s none of my business, but it sounded to me like you felt much better remembering them than moving on.”

He didn’t answer for a minute, taking the time to analyze what she was saying to figure out just why something that made so much sense didn’t apply here. “It hurts to remember them knowing they wouldn’t care to see me again.”

“How do you know that ?”

“I just do.”

“Hmm…” He could feel the disbelief and the judgement through that simple hum, and did his best to ignore it as he gradually worked his way through the rest of his drink. The clock ticked on for a while before she interrupted his train of thought again. “You know what I do when I miss people ?”

“Hm ?”

“Especially this time of year. I like to go out and buy them presents. I know I’ll never get to give them away. Most of those people are gone, and the others never visit anymore. But it feels nice, still. It fills the hole, a little bit.”

Her suggestion rendered him silent again, his current sorrow quickly replaced by a different kind of sadness. The statement that Citron had lost people that she still missed to this day, as unsurprising as it was, hit him like a truck. The idea that she still had a few people in her life who no longer bothered to make time for her was maybe even more depressing. And suddenly, he remembered what she’d told him, the other day. _That’s a lot of not-dead people to be staying away from._

He stood up, putting down his nearly finished mug on the windowsill. She didn’t react, but something in her stance made it known she could tell he’d just made a decision. “Thank you,” he said, his voice weirdly uneven, and swiftly made his way over to the door, only turning back to add, “For the coffee.”

He knew what he was going to do now. He was going to take a shower, and scrub off all of that outsider smell left on him. He was going to properly tend to his injury, for once, and make himself a breakfast he’d enjoy. He would head back out and spend a few hours buying some harmless, nonsensical and hypothetical presents for people he didn’t know whether he was even going to see. And then he’d head to work, file in his report, and use the opportunity to meet with George and demand to have the weekend off.


	11. Chapter 11

It’d been less of a struggle than he’d anticipated, to get those two days off. In fact, he’d gotten more out of it than expected; with a firm reminder that he’d promptly cleaned up George’s mess without question a few days ago, and after stating the fact that they never had need of field agents on holidays, he’d gotten not only the two days off but the entirety of the following week as well.

Part of him was still apprehensive as to what he was doing all this for. That most of it would be time wasted, that he would end up not seeing any of them much. Of course everyone would have made plans. But was it really an excuse not to make himself available if he could ? He had a couple more solitary months to endure up here, after all. Something in his gut told him he’d regret not taking the chance to show up for this one night in the long run. Besides, it’d be worth it just to see a couple of familiar faces, even if it was only for the time of a party.

He packed quickly, and lightly. He wouldn’t be gone for long, he thought, shoving some pieces of clothing and his few electronic devices into a box before heading downstairs. The bunch of random presents he’d acquired earlier that day wound up taking almost as much room in his car as his personal belongings. He almost wanted to leave them behind, just to make sure he wouldn’t actually go through with giving them away. They were dumb, and unoriginal. But then again, it’s the thought that counts.

Just as he was stepping up to the driver’s seat, he looked back at the sad apartment building, and spotted an old sheep lady staring at him through her window. He could have pretended he didn’t see her, probably. But he waved at her instead, and she opened her window. “You’re leaving,” she said, stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, pausing for a moment. And then, “I’m gonna go check on a few people just in case some of them haven’t forgotten me still.”

She smiled knowingly. “Safe travels, Shadow.”

He nodded, and hopped into his car without a word. Then back out, very suddenly, before she could close her window. “You know who I am,” he said, more a surprised statement than a question.

“Of course,” she replied with a shrug. “The landlord told everyone on the block that you were coming weeks ahead of time. I thought, he must be pretty lonely, if people announce his arrival like a warning everywhere he goes.”

He stared. For what felt like several minutes, he looked at her, her tired arms, her innocent smile, her overgrown faded yellow wool. She was someone he wanted to remember, he decided. “Take care, miss Citron.”

It was her turn to nod and wave, and it was her initiative to close the window, even when he was left standing there for a moment longer. And he got back into his car and stayed still for some more time, trying to process what he was doing. It had been a weird journey, and it was hard to tell whether this was the end of it or the true beginning. He started the car.

There was a long road ahead, but it didn’t seem all that daunting this time around. He had a lot of thinking to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking to this and reading all the way through ! I hope you all enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed to write.
> 
> For those interested, my partner who writes Sonic also wrote a drabble of their own detailing Sonic's point of view on a day during that time period. You can find it [here](https://heroquills-a.tumblr.com/post/181291958245/new-metropolis-looked-surprisingly-beautiful-this).
> 
> And for those who need closure, they did eventually get together. They reunited at that Christmas party, and Sonic invited Shadow to come spend the rest of the holidays on Christmas Island with him and his family. They kissed on the new year, Sonic convinced Shadow to stop running away from his sentiments, and they made their relationship official a couple of months later. There's been a lot of ups and downs, but they are still together to this day. If any of you are interested in reading more about them, feel free to let me know and I'll gladly link you to more of me and my partner's writing.
> 
> Shadow is also still on good terms with everyone mentioned in this arc, and has made a couple of other good friends since.


End file.
